


Waiting

by Somewhat_Inspired



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Awaiting execution, Baljeet's last name is Rai in this, Before I knew it was Tjinder, Before the Hunger Games were invented, Blood and Violence, Comforting, Deal With It, District 13, District 13 really was destroyed, Execution, F/M, First Rebellion, Grief/Mourning, Hope, In 2013, Losing side of war, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Other, Please Don't Hate Me, Separations, Trauma, Unhappy Ending, War, very brief Baljeet/Ginger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 09:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11354625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somewhat_Inspired/pseuds/Somewhat_Inspired
Summary: The worst part had been the waiting...





	Waiting

      The worst part had been the waiting.

      Waiting while locked up in some dark prison cell among rows of other captured survivors, waiting for the worst to happen.

      Baljeet cowered in his cell as the one dim light bulb on the hallway ceiling swayed and flickered as yet another bomb aftershock rocked the establishment that had formally been the District 13 prison barracks. Anyone who had committed a crime against the District leaders had been thrown in here to be punished or even terminated. It was sickeningly ironic how it now served as the holding cell for the few innocent survivors from District 13 awaiting execution.

      The memories of peoples' dying screams, bombs, and blood flashed through the Indian teen's mind. There had been death, so much death, and all because of some stupid attempt to overthrow the Capitol…They had had hope, hope for a future where the citizens of Panem were no longer oppressed by the tyranny of the Capitol, hope that the country could return to being the America that all people above the age ten could fondly remember, hope that the Rebellion just might succeed…and in a single instant, that had all been torn apart.

      To make matters worse, the Capitol obliterated what remained of the already warzone-turned District 13 not two days after the Rebellion was broken apart. Baljeet and a few of his remaining comrades had by some miracle managed to escape the horrific bombing and tried to flee to the sanctuary of District 12, but only a few hours later (about halfway through the forest leading to their intended refuge) they were ambushed by a Capitol search squad and marched back to the ravaged ruins of their former home.

      Baljeet took a moment to thank the Almighty that Phineas, Isabella, and most of the others weren't in this situation. Just eight years before, the gang and their families had all been separated amongst the chaos of the newly-established Capitol sorting them into their set Districts. There had been immense confusion and terror on that day. All over the once-free country, families and friends were torn apart from each other, never to see one another again. A tear slipped down Baljeet's cheek at the memory and he gingerly lifted a finger to wipe it away, only to be rewarded by unintentionally smearing some dirt into a sensitive cut just below his left eye. Hissing lightly in pain, he tried to clear it, but his efforts were in vain. More tears fell in frustration, and the eighteen-year-old gave up as he allowed his mind to wander from his wounds back to his previous train of thought.

      He remembered his own parents' reactions on that terrible day. They had been hysterical, his mother sobbing and his father fighting the two Capitol policemen restraining him while Baljeet (who at the time was only ten years of age) was grabbed by a third and dragged to the train that would take him to the territory that was labeled 'District 13', the District of science and nuclear weapons. Baljeet did not know where his parents now resided, but he never saw them again after that day. He faintly wandered how they would react once they learned that their only son was dead. Yes, that was what he would be by the time the message reached them, wouldn't he?

      If the Capitol wasn't already boasting of their victory over the Rebellion's leading District, he thought bitterly. The Indian teen knew without a doubt that their fellow Districts were currently suffering punishments of almost equal magnitude. He prayed Phineas, Isabella, Irving, the remaining Fireside girls, Buford (ah, Buford…was it District One, Two, or Twelve that his bully had ended up at?) and all their parents were alright. He'd never be able to forgive himself for as long as he lived (which probably would not be for much longer) if they suffered the same awful fate because of his District's mistake.

      The creaking of a rusty steel cell being opened sounded and Baljeet's breathing hitched. He relaxed when he realized it was not his turn yet but his heart didn't cease pounding loudly in his chest. A Capitol official wearing a grey (then again, everything was grey in the dim light) uniform passed by his cell, pulling a handcuffed prisoner behind him. The doomed (did he really use that word? They were _all_ doomed) bombing escapee stumbled just close enough that the teenager could see their face…and Baljeet let out a sob.

      Ginger Hirano smiled sadly back from outside his cage in the scant lighting. The seventeen-year-old's gorgeous slanted eyes were sorrow-filled, and her clothes and face were smeared with dirt, grime, and scrapes from her many hours of detainment. Her previously silky smooth ebony hair was now tangled and matted with dust. In his eyes she was still beautiful, but now in a tragic kind of way.

      " _I'm sorry, 'Jeet…goodbye…"_ Her sweet voice whispered.

      Baljeet's response died in his throat. As the Japanese female was led away, he attempted to call out to her, reassure her, _anything_ , but the Capitol jailer screamed "Oi! Shut up, both of you!" before he could.

      A brighter light appeared momentarily, but vanished a second later as a door slammed behind Ginger. Baljeet sunk to his knees and shuddered as his body was racked with silent sobs. This was it. It was over. All the friends he had come to regard as family would perish in front of him as he stood by, helpless to interfere. It was a shame the members of the Capitol search team had disarmed him before dragging him here – he would have gladly shot himself this moment if he had the means.

      A muscular, comforting arm reached out from the neighboring cell to the eighteen-year-old's right and gently clasped the teen's shaking hand in his own. Baljeet couldn't see the person except the one appendage due to the cells' only openings being the bars facing the hallway (a thick stone wall separated all the prisoners from each other's sight), but he knew exactly who it was.

      "Baljeet," the deep British-accented voice rumbled, "Don't worry. Everything will be alright."

      "How can you be so sure!?" The Indian teen snapped, his voice cracking from anxiety and stress. "How, Ferb!? Do you not get it!? We are all going to _die._ We will _never_ go to college, or get married," Tears slowly trickled down his cheeks as Baljeet's body began to tremble with grief and sorrow. "or see our friends and parents… _ever_ again…!"

      "Baljeet…"

      A moment of silence followed with the occasional rattling of the prison or the distant exploding of bombs. A cell door creaked open and a prisoner cried out as he was forced out and led towards the entrance at the end of the hall leading to the execution room. Baljeet's quivering intensified as the jailor and his struggling charge passed by. It was difficult to tell in the low light, but the condemned former member of District 13 seemed to be a young boy that couldn't have been any older than eleven. The Indian teen's heart sank more than he ever thought possible when several people wailed in grief as the child stumbled by their cells.

      "My gracious…" Ferb murmured, his voice trembling with both shock and fury. "Has the Capitol _any_ mercy?"

      The second the boy disappeared through the lit hallway's door to his doom, Baljeet's sobs grew louder and his grip on Ferb's hand tightened. If only he could turn back the clock and return to those simple, carefree days spent in Phineas and Ferb's backyard with Ginger and Buford and all those he loved…he would have readily sacrificed anything for the past eight years to have all been a mere nightmare. But all the wishing in the world couldn't have altered the heinous reality.

      Once more, Ferb's deep voice reached his ears. "Baljeet…Baljeet, please…calm down. Don't give the Capitol the satisfaction of seeing you suffer."

      "It is too late for that," the teen remarked tartly. He exhaled, and sorrow again laced his words. "So many of our friends are dead, Ferb, and soon it will be our turns…" His voice was near silent when he admitted, "I have never been so terrified in my life…"

      The nineteen-year-old's hand gently squeezed his own as Ferb quietly replied, "I couldn't agree more. But we must remember that the only thing stronger than fear…is _hope_. We must have faith in the fact that someday we will all meet again – maybe not here or in this life, but someplace else for sure – and that the Capitol will eventually be overthrown and Panem will be restored to the United States of America that we all fondly recall."

      A small smile graced Baljeet's lips at the older male's words, and closing his chocolate eyes, he murmured, "Many thanks to you, Ferb…"

      "Anytime."

      Suddenly, both froze when the execution room door swung open and the jailor trudged in. When Ferb noticed the man approaching his cell, the teen retracted his hand from the Indian male's cell and hastily stated, "Baljeet, I want you to know that it's been an honor and a privilege to know and serve beside you. I could never ask for a better friend. Goodbye, now."

      "What!? No! _FERB!_ "

      Ferb's cell door was unlocked and slid open, and Baljeet heard the teen push himself to his feet and silently walk out into the hallway. The jailor nudged him towards the light at the end of the brig, and after several seconds of listening to agonizingly slow, fading footsteps, Baljeet heard the execution room's door close behind the green-haired teen. Ferb, the only person besides Ginger that Baljeet had known since before the whole mess with the Capitol and the one good friend from Danville that he had managed to be placed in the same District with, was gone. The moment the prison was once again sheathed in near darkness, the young Indian native, the unsanitary state of his minor wounds forgotten, placed his head in his hands as tears again dropped from his eyes. This moment of grieving, unlike before, was silent and lacked stress. Baljeet's energy was spent from all his previous outbursts. The following minutes all became a blur as he released the last of his sorrow.

      Baljeet wasn't certain how much time had passed before he heard the eerie sounds of his own cell door being unlocked and sliding open. Weakly averting his gaze to peer up, he was met with the sight of the jailor standing in the cell doorway twirling a pair of handcuffs in one hand.

      "Yer turn, rebel." The man growled. "Better git movin'."

      The eighteen-year-old numbly stood up and remained motionless as his hands were cuffed behind his back. A safety precaution, he supposed, although there was really no need. There were no possible escape routes in the prison – the District 13 governors had made sure of that when the building was built. He absently wondered what those architects would say now if they knew their inescapable dungeon would later serve as the holding facility for the condemned bombing survivors. Would they have added secret passageways leading to freedom, or would they not have cared? Either way it was too late to dwell on it now.

      Baljeet mostly kept his head down as he was led down the hallway towards his undeniable end, but he could not help his brown eyes occasionally darting to meet those of his fellow captives'. So few remained…and almost none whom he recognized. The handful of people who did remember him gaped at the sight of the young man, cried out, attempted to reassure him with a sad smile, or just stared in horror. There was not a single one who didn't appear terrified.

      The teen's thoughts came to a screeching halt when he realized they had reached the door. He felt all color drain from his face when it was opened and he was unceremoniously shoved through. He had just barely regained his footing when he heard the door shut and lock behind him. The jailor had left, undoubtedly to retrieve his next victim.

      "BALJEET RAI," A booming, cold voice acknowledged. "STEP FORWARD."

      Whirling around, the eighteen-year-old was met with the sight of a group of Capitol representatives sporting stern expressions sitting in chairs encased within some sort of smaller room separated from his with a large window. The speaker (who was talking into a mouthpiece that was synced to an intercom in the corner of Baljeet's room) was a man of humongous proportions wearing a wrinkled tuxedo and slacks. His receding grey hairline and scraggly peach fuzz made his disheveled appearance all the more unpleasant.

      His cold dull green eyes scrutinized the Indian teen from head to toe as he repeated, "STEP FORWARD."

      Baljeet's knees felt similar to jelly. With a near-staggering gait he stumbled closer to the ugly man and the other Capitol goons behind the glass. Once he had approached a satisfying distance, the man continued reading off the document he clutched in one portly hand with sickening indifference in his tone.

      "BALJEET RAI…AS A MEMBER OF DISTRICT 13, THE LEADING PARTY IN A MUTUNIOUS AND VIOLENT REBELLION, AND FOR SELFISHLY AVOIDING JUSTICE AFTER THE FACT, YOU ARE HEREBY SENTENCED TO EXECUTION BY A FIRING SQUAD."

      Baljeet paled further, if it was remotely possible. Throwing a panicked glance around the room, he realized the walls and glass protecting the Capitol senators were all bullet-proof. And although they must have wiped the majority of it away between each killing, there were a few drops of crimson blood scattered on the wall to his left and the floor. But that wasn't what frightened him. To his right, he saw three armored gunmen clutching rifles all aiming directly for his heart. But none of them shot.

      Nervous perspiration beaded on his forehead as his attention returned to the Capitol representatives. The speaking one cleared his throat and inquired, "WOULD YOU LIKE A BLINDFOLD?"

      Choking back a sob, Baljeet bit his lip and swiftly shook his head. All the people who had perished in the merciless bombing of his District had not received the luxury of being blindfolded, so why should he?

      The old male's eerily monotonous voice continued. "SINCE YOUR LIFE IS ABOUT TO BE CONSIDERED AT AN END, ARE THERE ANY LAST WORDS YOU WOULD LIKE TO SHARE WITH US?"

      So this was how it would end. Maybe he should say something patriotic like recite the old American Pledge of Allegiance, or scream like the rebel his executioners accused him to be and curse the name of the Capitol…heck, no one would blame him if he simply broke down sobbing.

      Baljeet parted his lips to speak, but the words died in his throat. In that instant, his pathetically brief life flashed before his eyes. Images of arriving in the country (then known as the USA) for the first time, meeting all his friends, winning his first spelling bee and science fair, participating in Phineas and Ferb's crazy adventures, his and Ginger's first kiss, his parents hugging him before he went off to school, the day the Capitol took control, being separated from his friends and family, and the most recent memory of sharing a last conversation with Ferb all passed through his mind. A miniscule tear trickled down his cheek, and instantaneously the correct words came to mind.

      Opening his eyes that had been previously unconsciously closed to meet those of the Capitol senators', Baljeet nodded slowly and replied, "Yes. Recently a good friend of mine shared something with me that I will always treasure," He spoke loudly so his voice would carry throughout the room. "He stated that the only thing on this earth stronger than fear is hope. Hope that everything will turn out all right in the end. Hope that the individuals who have truly wronged others will receive justice. Hope that the Capitol _will_ be overthrown."

      At the last sentence, all the other representatives gasped while the obese man with the speaker turned red as a tomato. Shooting to his pudgy feet with shocking speed, the man roared through his ear piece, " _FIRE!_ "

      At their leader's command, the trio of gunmen pulled their triggers. Baljeet didn't even have time to react before the bullets made contact with their intended target and his eyes rolled back as his body crashed to the ground. The last thing he remembered was feeling his own blood mingle with the splotches on the white tile floor and the man behind the glass snorting and remarking, " _'Hope that the Capitol will be overthrown.' And to think the brat had the audacity…_ "

      His vision failed, his heartbeat stilled, and Baljeet spun into dizzying darkness…

      The waiting was over.

**Author's Note:**

> The whole "The only thing stronger than fear is hope" thing was something I saw written on a Hunger Games notebook the year the first movie came out. I can't remember if it was a quote from the movie or not, but I liked it and thought it fit well, so I put it in here. Thanks for reading!


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